


Lights in the Night Sky

by sternchencas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, WIP, fairy tale AU, prince!Dean, royal Winchesters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternchencas/pseuds/sternchencas
Summary: As the prince of Havenhill, Dean should be worried about marrying and learning how to rule his future kingdom, but there are so many other things he likes to spend time on instead. Most of all, the sorrow lights. Every year, Dean watches the bright lights in the night sky, wondering where they come from and why. This year is no different, except one little detail.Dean helps a stranger who's in danger of being imprisoned and soon after he finds a new world full of mystery, magic, and friendship. It could be the best thing that has ever happened to him if it wasn't for the dark legacy of the Winchesters that might take all of it away from him, making him wish he'd never found out from where those cursed lights come.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a WIP. It will update every 2-4 weeks. I will add characters, tags, etc. along the way and the rating may go up (but it won't be explicit). Please feel free to comment along the way, I'd be happy about every bit of motivation :)
> 
> The lovely and immensely talented [Heike](http://cas-watches-over-you.tumblr.com/) made art for the story, and you should totally check out [her art](http://cas-watches-over-you.tumblr.com/tagged/drawing) because it's always sweet and beautiful!

 

“Dean, are you up here?” King John shouts, his voice traveling through the night.

It makes his son wanting to hide, but Dean knows he can’t outrun his father forever. “I’m here,” he shouts back, turning around to face the castle wall behind him.

Soon after, his father arrives next to him. He’s not fooled by the direction Dean is facing and sighs. “You’ve been watching the sorrow lights again, haven’t you?”

It’s one thing not to tell his father everything, but Dean knows he’d get in trouble for lying. Still, he doesn’t answer but turns around, his eyes wandering to the lights in the distance. As the prince of Havenhill, Dean got to witness more wonders in his young age than most people can see in their whole lives. He saw singers and dancers from foreign countries, battles between the bravest knights, and animals he couldn’t even imagine before. But all of that doesn’t compare to the marvelous spectacle in front of his eyes.

The only light is coming from the stars above and a few fires in the courtyard below them. They’d be wrapped in darkness, just like all the other nights, if it wasn’t for the sorrow lights in the distance. It’s the first night of the feast of lights. Every year, when winter takes hold of the land, the lights appear in the sky, and all people celebrate the feast for seven days until the lights disappear again.

Dean was fascinated with them since he was a child. He always loved to watch them. When other kids marveled at the jesters and ponies and filled their bellies with candy, Dean could be found standing in the middle of the square, head tilted back as far as possible, and staring up into the sky. Back then, he was happy when his parents told him the stories about the lights, and up at the castle, they didn’t shut the curtains so he could watch them before falling asleep.

Now they tell him he’s too old to watch lights and to fill his head with stories. Instead, he’s supposed to think about the land and how he might rule it some day. Dean doesn’t care much about being the leader of a place he doesn’t fully understand. There’s something about the lights and the forest below that won’t let him sleep, and the only thing he cares about are answers to the many questions that keep him awake during the feast of lights.

John walks closer to Dean and watches him with a disapproving look. “I thought we agreed that you would attend the feast and at least stay there until our official guests were leaving.”

Dean doesn’t answer. In his mind, he relives the first time he’s seen the lights. He couldn’t sleep and felt like the night was too bright, so he got out of his bed and looked out of the window. The sky above the forest has been unusually dark, without stars, but then he saw the first light. It came from below, rose in a wide arc and slowly trembled to the ground again. After that, many others followed. Some came from above, others shot up into the sky and disappeared. They were yellow, golden, and white, and Dean has never seen anything so beautiful.

Even now, being twenty years of age, he can’t get enough of them. It’s a mystery to him how his father can just stand there, not even looking. It makes him whisper a question he asked himself a thousand times before. “What are they?”

Finally, John glances in the direction of the lights, but quickly averts his eyes and grunts. “You know what they are.”

Dean can’t help but roll his eyes and turns around to face his father. “The gods send the lights to ward off the evil that tries to swallow the land in the days when a new year begins, I know.” It’s a direct quote from every story that Dean has heard about the lights, but the words don’t satisfy him. “But who are the gods? What are the lights made of? And how do they fight the evil?”

John pinches his nose with two fingers and closes his eyes for a moment. Two years ago, he always became furious with Dean when he dared to ask these questions. One year ago, the king asked his son to keep them to himself as not to alert the priests. Now, he’s grown tired of arguing with Dean, and he tells him that much. “Please, just go to the feast. Your mother and I are running out of excuses why you’re not there.”

“Who cares if I’m there or not?”

John laughs, which is something Dean rarely gets to hear, and the people are sure their King never does. “Everybody? I think you forget again who you are. You’re the prince.”

“Sammy is a prince, too.”

Dean’s father furrows his brows, his face finally getting that dangerous edge that tells Dean to be careful about what to say next. “Yes, he is. But unlike you, he’s not in a position to negotiate with our neighbors, and he’s not old enough to marry. Besides, he cares for our affairs and the people, and he’s at the feast right now.”

They stay silent for a moment and Dean can’t help but watch the lights again. “Pretty useless, aren’t I?”

He is waiting for a storm but instead, he can feel his father's hand on his shoulder. “You’re not here to be useful, Dean,” John says, “We just wish you would care as much about your duties as you care about betting on knights, horses, and those damn lights.”

“Duties,” Dean spits the word rather than saying it, and his father’s hand drops from his shoulder.

John sighs, and for the first time, he turns to the lights, watching their dance in the night sky. “When I was your age, I was standing right here, you know? I watched them for days, asking myself the same questions.”

Despite their fighting over the years, his father never told Dean about this. Dean watches him, his voice barely hiding his surprise, “What happened?”

King John stays silent for a long moment like he needs to imprint what he sees in his memory before he turns to Dean. “I grew up,” he says, his voice firm, like he needs Dean to understand what he’s saying. He heads to the door, and Dean is about to follow him when John looks over his shoulder with a gentle smile. “Stay. You can be a child for one more night.”

Dean gladly takes the offer. He’s not sure he could have gone with his father. It’s like the sorrow lights are calling to him, begging him to stay and witness them. Sometimes, when he watched them for a long time, he feels like he knows them. Each light is different, and he’s able to tell them apart like they are people. The priests of the gods would probably have his head for such blasphemy, but he just can’t believe in their stories. It doesn’t make sense to him that people would celebrate a feast while there’s a war raging on between good and evil in the forest.

Dean stares at the lights like he can will them to speak to him, and repeats his question, “What are you?”

For a moment, the sky turns dark, but then a bright light shoots up into the sky and splits in two at the peak of its path. Little sparks tumble down in broad arcs like wings. This light is different from all the others Dean has seen before. It’s not golden, yellow, or white. It’s blue.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Come on, Cassie, just do it,” Gabriel whispers next to Castiel.

Together with Balthazar, they are at the market to get supplies. They don’t quite agree on how to get them, though. Castiel answers in a hushed voice, “We have money. I don’t see why we should take a risk.”

Gabriel smiles at him like Castiel is a little puppy that needs more training. “That might be, but if we get the food for free, we still have the money left to buy other things. And food is the easiest to steal.”

Unfortunately, Gabriel is right. The Kindred have been very careful during the last few years, only getting the bare minimum on supplies and now they’re running short on everything, especially money.

Cas scans the crowd, making sure they won’t run into trouble. The only guard that patrols the market in this area just passed. He won’t be back for a few minutes, enough time for Castiel to make his move. Without hesitation, he makes his way through the crowd, looting a pocket that’s begging for it, and comes to a halt in front of the baker’s table. Castiel grabs two loaves of bread, acting like he’s about to buy them. He’s done the same thing a hundred times before in different cities and never got caught.

It would have been the same here if it wasn’t for one little incident that Castiel couldn’t predict. A woman near him raises her voice and announces a special guest, “Look, it’s the prince!”

Everybody pays attention now, looking around to get a glimpse of the prince. Castiel doesn’t look. He’s about to put the bread under his tunic when Azazel, the owner of the bakery, turns around and spots him. One second earlier, Castiel could have pretended that he wants to buy the bread. One second later, and he'd be walking away. Instead, the man in front of him starts screaming, and Castiel runs.

He dodges a few people, making an attempt to reach a nearby alley, but before he can slip through, a bear of a man blocks it. Castiel’s momentum drives him right into the man’s arms who gives a satisfied shout, “I got him!”

Castiel struggles to get free, but the man holds him with an iron grip. Azazel arrives just a second later, a malicious grin on his face. “Good work, Alastair. Let’s show this boy what we do with dirty thieves around here.”

“My pleasure, Azazel.” Alastair turns Castiel around, his fingers digging deep into the flesh on Castiel’s arms. “I’m always happy to help.”

It this case ‘help’ means that Alastair is going to hold Castiel in place while Azazel punches him in the stomach. Castiel’s breath rushes out of him, and he topples over, blinded by pain, unable to defend himself. Azazel draws his arm back for another punch but the crowd around them parts when a demanding voice drowns out everybody else, “What is going on here?”

Castiel can feel how Alastair’s grip loosens up and Azazel’s voice drips out of his mouth like honey, “I’m sorry you had to see this, my lord. We’re just dealing with a thief.”

“By beating the shit out of him?”

Nervous chatter erupts around the market, and while Castiel can’t see who this Lord is, he knows. The only one of the royal family to speak like that is Prince Dean. His brother Sam is more level headed and noble, and King John would never talk like that, no matter the situation before him.

Alastair lets Castiel go now while Azazel still tries to charm the prince, “We just captured him and were making sure that he can’t flee.”

“What did he steal?” Dean asks.

There’s no answer from Azazel, but he grabs Castiel and rips away a part of his tunic to reveal the bread. Castiel sighs internally. That’s just perfect. Now he has no bread; that bastard ruined his clothes, and he’ll end up in jail. Castiel first cusses Gabriel and then himself for listening to his friend. Now he can only hope to end up in a cell here in the marketplace where the others might be able to free him. If they take him to the castle, his life is over.

“Two loaves of bread? That’s it?” Dean quips. “And it’s not even fresh. We all know you put the leftovers from yesterday up front, Azazel.”

“But, my lord-”

“I’m sure the young man just forgot to pay,” Dean interrupts and turns to Castiel. “Isn’t that right?”

It takes a nudge from Alastair on his back to make Castiel understand that the prince addressed him with these words. Castiel raises his head, and Dean smiles at him, his green eyes sparkling. He means to make it easier for Castiel, but he has never seen Dean up close, and his presence renders him speechless. Finally, Castiel manages to nod. Dean’s smile grows even wider, and he turns to Azazel, “See? No harm was done.”

He flicks a coin at Azazel who hastily grabs it to bury it in his pocket. Even in this unfortunate situation, Castiel can tell which coin it was. Prince Dean compensated Azazel for way more than just two old loaves of bread. Still, Azazel isn’t satisfied, “What should we do with him? Alastair can bring him up to the castle if you want.”

Dean shakes his head, “Leave him to me.”

Surprised gasps and chatter from the crowd raise up into the air, but Dean isn't faced by them at all. He produces a handkerchief from his pocket and takes the bread away from Azazel to wrap it into the fabric while speaking to nobody in particular, “You better get back to your tables. We wouldn’t want to give real thieves an opportunity to strike.”

Immediately, the crowd scatters, and Dean turns to Castiel, “Follow me.”

For a moment, Castiel is tempted to make a run for it, but the prince doesn’t head for the castle. When he starts off in the opposite direction, Castiel hurries to catch up with him. They end up on a nearby bridge where Dean stops to give Castiel the bread, “Here. I guess you’ll need this.”

It would be the easiest thing just to take it and go, but Castiel has never been a liar, no matter what. The words tumble out of him, “I did try to steal them.”

“I know,” Dean replies with a soft smile. He pushes the bread into Castiel’s arms, and his gaze travels down Castiel’s body and the ripped tunic. A roll of his eyes shows how unsatisfied Dean is with the view. He shakes his coat off and drapes it over Castiel’s shoulders, “Azazel is a maniac. You should better stay away from him in the future.”

Castiel looks down at himself, not used to the feeling of fine silk against his skin, and still baffled by everything the prince has done for him, “Why are you doing this?”

Dean leans against the railing of the bridge, watching the glistening water below, “Nobody steals Azazel’s excuse for baked goods unless they have to. I don’t see the point in punishing you for that.”

“Instead, you’re giving me things,” Castiel marvels.

Turning around, Dean doesn’t explain himself, but offers even more to Castiel, “I can convince our cook to leave some supplies at the bridge near the castle every morning when he comes back from the market. I want you to put it to good use and share it with everybody in need. Can you do that?”

Castiel can’t believe what he’s hearing, but nods, “Of Course.”

“But you have to promise me something.” For the first time, Dean watches Castiel with a stern look. “Don’t steal anything else, ever again.”

Reluctant to give such a promise, Castiel only gives him a slight nod, but Dean pulls himself up to his full height, finally appearing like someone from the royal family. “I need to hear it.”

“I won’t steal anything else.” Gabriel’s voice echoes in Castiel’s mind when he speaks the words. His brother would kill him if he knew what Castiel is about to say, “I promise.”

The smile comes back onto Dean’s face, “Good. What’s your name?”

“Castiel.” The word is out of his mouth before he can stop himself. He used more than twenty fake names over the years, and usually, they come easier to him than his real one. What’s wrong with him? But the damage is done, he might as well finish it. “Or Cas. My friends call me Cas.”

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Cas. I’m Dean.”

The Prince shakes his hand, and Castiel is so confused, he can’t hold in a laugh, “I had an inkling that I knew you from somewhere.”

“I get that a lot.” Dean turns his head a little to the side like presenting himself, but his eyes stay on Castiel. “Such a beautiful face is hard to forget.”

Cas can’t help but stare at Dean in return. He heard lots of stories about the prince, all of them telling about mischief and how Dean wastes time with activities for rich people. No one ever portrayed him as generous and caring. Castiel wants to say something along those lines, but he can’t find the words. Dean is watching Cas like he’s waiting for something, not able to draw his eyes away.

Only when the silence becomes unbearable, Dean opens his mouth to say something. The bells of the castle stop him, ringing in a crescendo. “I have to go,” Dean says, “if I don’t attend the feast tonight, my father will probably behead me.”

Castiel has no idea how to answer that. He’s never heard anybody talk like this about the king, not even the royal family. Dean taps Castiel’s shoulder, and although he smiles, the serenity is back in his eyes. “Take care of yourself, Cas. And remember your promise. I’ll see you around!”

 

 

Dean runs off, and despite his noble clothes, he looks more like a merchant’s son than the prince. Even more so without his cloak which is still hanging from Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel pulls the fabric closer around his frame and notices a smell coming from the cloak. It’s a mixture of rich scents like candles and flowers, something you can only dream of when you haven’t been born in a castle.

There’s something else, though, and it reminds Cas of hay and horses. It makes Castiel smile. Now that he met Dean, it’s easy to imagine how he might sneak out of the castle to visit the stables, maybe even going for a ride on his own. Castiel wonders if Dean takes trips to the forest as well and that thought brings him back to reality.

Castiel has no business thinking about the prince and his life. It couldn’t be farther from Castiel’s own. He leaves the bridge, and after a while, he heads into the woods, his feet barely making a sound on the moss covered forest ground. His friends, trained like him, still find him. Balthazar dashes at him and envelopes him in a tight hug before pushing him at arm's length. “By the glorious mother nature, you got away,” he marvels, “we were worried they’d take you to the castle.”

Gabriel steps into view from behind a tree and gives Castiel a quick once over. “Well, I’ll be damned, Cassie. Not only did you get away, but you managed to steal this?” he asks.

“I didn’t steal it!” Cas objects. He feels weird wearing such expensive clothes, but that doesn’t fix his ruined tunic and why would he complain when Dean was so eager to part with it?

“Then how did you get it?” Gabriel asks.

Running out of patience, Castiel barks, “No matter that I’m still alive and not in the dungeons, no thanks to you!”

Balthazar takes a step back, and when Gabriel only watches his feet in shame, he takes it upon himself to calm Castiel down. “I’m sorry, Cas. We lost you in the crowd, and then Miller Henriksen spotted us. You know how he is after that thing with the windmill happened. We just bolted and assumed you’d catch up to us.”

Castiel doesn’t answer. ‘The thing with the windmill’ was another one of Gabriel’s brilliant ideas that got them into trouble in the end. Cas has enough of it. “I don’t know about you, but I can’t go back to the market today. I’m going home.”

He marches on, and his friends follow him, both still eying the cloak. “So, then how did you get it?” Balthazar asks.

Although Castiel doesn’t feel like talking about Dean with them, he knows that they’re going to find out at some point. It’s better to tell them the true story than having them hear an exaggerated version by somebody else. “Alastair caught me, and Azazel was about to beat me up when Prince Dean came by,” Castiel begins, doing his best to sound nonplussed.

Balthazar and Gabriel share an intrigued look, and Castiel continues, “He convinced everybody that I just forgot to pay. He gave Azazel the money and let me keep the bread.”

“And his coat,” Gabriel adds, his tone implying a question.

Castiel stops with a sigh and opens the coat to show them his tunic. “Yes, because Azazel ruined my clothes.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Balthazar says, running a hand over the fabric. He inspects where it’s torn and looks satisfied. “I’ll stitch that right up.”

“Yeah, you know how good he is with a needle,” Gabriel says, and he stretches his hands out for the bread. “Let me carry that.”

Castiel hands him the bread and moves on, having a hard time staying angry at his friends. After all, he would have run, too. It would have been bad enough if one of them got caught. As long as you’re not a prince, there’s nothing you can do to get your friend out of a prison sentence.

“Do we have at least something we can show for?” Castiel asks, thinking about the people back at their hideout.

Both Balthazar and Gabriel produce little bags from under their cloaks, filled with coins and trinkets that they should be able to fence. Not that it matters. Where they’re going, these treasures mean nothing.

 

###

 

“I sent you out with coins to get food and supplies, and you come back with more useless coins?” Missouri asks, her voice shaking. She’s not angry, Castiel knows that, but disappointed. Castiel and his friends mumble an apology, but Missouri isn’t done with them yet. “And the prince just let you go?” she asks, before lifting her finger at him. “And Castiel, you’re better not lying to me!”

Castiel knows he has to give her more of the story than he already did, but that’s dangerous territory. He tries to pick his words just right. “He asked me to stay away from Azazel and not to steal again.”

“He asked you,” Missouri repeats and something in her tone tells Cas that she knows what he’s trying to hide.

“Wait,” Balthazar says, “you didn’t promise anything, did you?”

Gabriel huffs a laugh. “Come on; even Cassie wouldn’t do that. Tell ‘em.”

Castiel can’t. He couldn’t even lie to Dean, how should he be able to lie to his family?

“Are you crazy?” Gabriel shouts. “Why would you do that?”

Of course, Cas understands why Gabriel is so upset. For them, promises aren’t just empty words but binding contracts. There'd be dire consequences if you break them. Still, Gabriel is the wrong person to give Cas life lessons. The accusation in Gabriel’s voice breaks Castiel’s reserve, and he shouts back, “You weren’t there, I could have died! Besides, it doesn’t even matter now. We have money to buy the things we need, and Dean promised to give us food.”

Gabriel grunts, “Oh look, Cassie’s on a first name basis with the prince now.”

Cas bites his tongue, not dignifying Gabriel’s words with an answer which makes his friend even angrier. Disgust fills his voice, “I guess it’s a good idea to trust him then. After all, when have we ever been let down by a Winchester?”

Balthazar draws a surprised breath, and Missouri shoots a look at Gabriel that forbids him to speak. “I don’t want to hear another word,” she says, “you have guard duty tonight, Gabriel. I don’t want to catch even a glimpse of you until tomorrow.”

Gabriel leaves without another word, and Balthazar turns to Castiel, his voice low, “Your tunic, remember?”

Castiel shrugs off the cloak takes off the tunic and puts the cloak back on. When Missouri eyes them suspiciously, Balthazar holds up the tunic like a shield, stuttering, “It’s torn, I’ll just stitch it up for him.”

Missouri nods with a small smile satisfied that at least one of her misfits is trying to make amends. “That’s very kind of you. But hurry, you have to light tonight.”

Balthazar makes a little bow before hurrying off, and Castiel wishes he could go with him. Instead, he turns to Missouri. “I know you’re disappointed.”

“I’m worried, Castiel,” Missouri admits, “there’s a reason why we keep our distance and hide from them. You, in particular, shouldn’t fall into their hands.”

Castiel lowers his head. Of course, he knows that. “I’m very sorry.”

“I know you are. I still have to forbid you to go to the market again, at least for a while. And you should make sure not to run into Prince Dean again,” Missouri says.

Castiel remembers Dean’s smile, and it somehow bothers him that he won’t see it again, but Missouri is right. And so is Gabriel. Castiel should be furious with Dean, not blindly trust him. But now that he met the prince, it’s even harder to be mad at him.

“Can I keep the cloak?” he asks, and Missouri nods.

“I trust Balthazar to do a good job on that tunic, but I can’t think of a reason to take away some extra warmth from you. Just make sure it doesn’t hinder you.”

“It doesn’t,” Cas promises, “it’s very light.”

Missouri sighs, “Then off you go. You have to light as well.”

Castiel hurries off, and Missouri watches him leave, the green cloak almost hiding Castiel’s whole body. A bitter smile creeps onto her lips. Castiel is wearing a prince’s cloak. You have to love the irony.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [Heike! :)](http://cas-watches-over-you.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

Dean is sitting in the throne room, doing his best to keep his eyes open.

Just like his father asked him to, he attended the feast of lights the night before, and whenever he wasn’t talking to someone, he watched the sky. When the feast was over, he planted himself in front of the window in his room and kept looking until he fell asleep. There is something about the lights that intrigues him like he has a connection to them. Especially the blue one. Dean sees it again before his eyes, caught in a daydream until some commotion by the entrance catches his eye.

King John was about to call for the next supplicant but instead gestures to his guards to bring the person in that they tried to hold back. The second Dean sees her, he knows something is wrong. Lady Ellen is a brave woman, not easily intimidated, even by raiders who frequently make their way over the border and end up right in her backyard.

Today, she is shaking, her face red from tears, and her voice trembles when she kneels before the king. “Your grace, they took her, they took Joanna Beth.”

Dean’s blood runs cold. He grew up with Jo, and they’ve been friends ever since. He’d be devastated if something happened to her. Dean’s mother Mary and his brother Sam look just as worried, and King John gets up and takes Ellen by the hands to help her on her feet.

“It’s alright, Lady Ellen. Tell me what happened.”

Ellen takes a few quick breaths and finds back to her usual self, her face getting grim. “They came out of the woods, and there weren’t enough guards. Nobody thought they’d come that way,” she exclaims, still baffled by the audacity of their attackers.

Murmurs break out around the room. It’s never been heard of that people go into the woods during the feast of lights, even outlaws. “Were they bandits?” King John asks, and Ellen shakes her head.

“They tried to hide their armor under their cloaks, but at least one of them wore the sigil of House Crowley on his chest.”

The room grows even louder. Havenhill is not at war with their neighbors, but you can’t call House Crowley a friend of the Winchesters. King John raises his hand to quiet the crowd, but before he can say something, Ellen grabs his tunic. “Please, John, you have to help her. Allow my men to go into the woods,” she begs.

Dean knows his father, and he can read his face like a book. The Winchesters are close friends with Lady Ellen’s family, and Jo is like a daughter to John. It must pain him to make such a decision, but he has to deny her request. There can’t be any rule breaking, especially during the feast of lights. Without even thinking about it, Dean steps forward. His voice is loud and clear, filling every corner of the room. “With permission of the king, I will go to bring Joanna Beth back,” he says, “and bring justice to the people who took her.”

King John turns his head away from the crowd and closes his eyes for a moment. They both know that Dean just forced his hand. When John turns back to Ellen, he gives her a reassuring smile. “Prince Dean will take four men of the king’s guard. I think it’s best if they travel with a small party. You will keep your men and see that they protect your home.”

Ellen almost starts crying again, and suddenly she leaps at Dean and hugs him, her words only audible to John and him. “Thank you, Dean. You wonderful, wonderful boy. Be safe.”

“Don’t worry, it will be alright,” Dean says, although he knows he has no claim to such a promise. So far he’s been trained by the guard and went on a few hunts, but he never had a real fight. Dean’s not sure if he has the slightest chance against Crowley’s men. But he has to try, for Jo.

The air is still filled with excited chatter, and King John gestures to his guards to clear the room. Then he waves the commander of the king’s guard nearer. Rufus wears his gruff exterior like a shield, but he’s a good soul on the inside. Next to Robert, King John’s head adviser, there’s nobody the king trusts more. He must know what’s waiting for him in this situation. “Your grace?” he asks, waiting for orders.

“You will take three of your best men, and go with Prince Dean. You will follow his command. Start at Lady Ellen’s residence and find those delinquents. Do with them what you must to get Lady Joanna Beth home safely,” John says.

Rufus gives him a little bow. “Of course, your grace,” he says, walking away to get his men.

One of the guards who cleared the room comes to escort Lady Ellen to her home and Dean is left with his family to say some difficult goodbyes.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever followed the story might have noticed that I didn't update as promised. I'm very sorry about that, but I actually had a pregnancy getting in the way, and now I have a baby at home, so writing in between isn't always easy xD BUT I'm not planning on abandoning this story and fully intent on finishing it. The next update might not come in four weeks (but it might, I honestly don't know), but it won't be over a year again. That much I can promise ;)

Soon after starting their search, Dean and the guards of the king arrived in front of the woods. It’s not hard to follow the trail of Jo’s abductors. They’re so sure nobody will come after them that they didn’t bother to cover their tracks. Still, nobody moves. Even Rufus doesn’t seem all too eager to go into the forest. Dean understands their hesitation. If he’s honest with himself, he’s afraid. It’s not dark yet but the sun is setting, and they have no idea what waits for them behind those trees.

“I wish I wouldn’t have to ask you to go in there,” Dean says, trying his best to keep the fear out of his voice. “But we’re trying to save the life of an innocent person. The Harvelles have done so much for this land, we owe them to do our best to repay them. I want all of you to do whatever is necessary to get Lady Joanna Beth back.”

“Of course, my lord,” Rufus says, and the other guards agree.

Spurred on by their determination, Dean dares to urge on his horse, and they follow the trail to Crowley’s men. It doesn’t take long until Dean’s party catches up to them. They made camp and are sitting around a fire with no care in the world. Dean is glad his men will have the element of surprise, but they are vastly outnumbered.

Five of Crowley’s men are huddled around the fire, one of them making sure that Jo can’t get out of her binds. Two others are standing by the horses, two more men are stumbling through the woods nearby to collect firewood, and one other is hurrying behind some trees, probably to relieve himself. He doesn’t get the chance to drop his pants, though. One of Dean’s men takes him out with a well-placed shot from his bow while Rufus and another guard take care of the two men in the woods. That still leaves them with seven men and the danger of getting Jo hurt.

Dean comes up with a plan Rufus doesn’t like at all, but he has to follow the prince’s orders. He and his men spread out around the camp while Dean walks out of the woods, closest to the warrior’s fire, and right into the light. He spreads his arms to make himself as visible as possible and addresses the surprised men with a smile. “Good evening, gentlemen.“

The men around him get to their feet with cries and draw their weapons, all of them focused on Dean, just like he intended. One of them walks closer and tries to speak, but Dean doesn’t let him. He’s the prince after all, and he’s planning on giving them a good show.

“Of course you know who I am,” he says, “and I’m here to rescue…“ He pauses, looking at Jo for the first time and frowns. After a second he shakes his head like it doesn’t matter. “You know, the girl.“

Silence falls over the clearing. Nobody seems to believe that Dean would actually be this naive. And dumb, on top of it. The leader suddenly barks out a laugh. “And what makes you think we’ll just give her to you?“

Dean visibly rolls his eyes. “Of course you don’t give her to me,“ he barks, like the man in front of him is just one of his stable boys. “You let her go and take me instead. I get the credit for rescuing her, and you can ask for ransom for me.“

“And the king will pay,“ the leader says, satisfied with his deduction skills, but Dean is looking at him as if he’s never seen a bigger idiot. 

“You should know better than that. But at least it gives him a good excuse to go to war. Which is exactly what Crowley wanted in the first place. I’m sure he told you all about his plans as his right-hand man,” Dean says, doing his best to sound sincere.

The man all look to their leader who visibly grows in size, although he still has the same dumbfounded expression as in the beginning. “Of course,” he says. “He hired me to get the girl and-” He pauses and looks to Dean. “Um, what he said. I knew all about it.”

While the idiots are occupied, Dean signals Jo where their people are and where she should go. She gives him a slight nod, and he waves his hand at the leader. “Cut her loose, and we’ll be on our way.”

The man next to Jo gets out a knife, but the leader shakes his head. “Not so fast. Who says we can’t keep you both?”

Dean laughs, and when the leader gives him the stink eye, he raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, you weren’t joking. My dear fellow, have you ever traveled with a woman?”

“Uh, no,” the man admits, and Dean has to keep himself from laughing. They’re still in danger; this shouldn't be funny to him.

Dean walks over to the leader and swings an arm around him; the gesture being so crazy that the man lets him do it. “Then let me tell you. First of all, they can’t ride for shit. I mean, in that dress? Have you seen how they sit to the side, and first you have to get them up there? I give her an hour, and she’ll be asking you for a wagon.”

“But-,” the man tries to butt in, but Dean talks over him.

“And then you have to feet her. I mean, you can’t let her starve. Nobody gives a shit about a half dead girl. But what can you give her? You can’t just catch a rabbit and give it to her. She won’t like that, and then she’s gonna nag you. You ever had a hungry woman nagging you? All. Day. Long.”

“We won’t-”

Dean sighs deeply. “And then she needs to sleep, but sweet, little princess here is probably used to a mattress thicker than your body. The ground won’t do. Then there’s nightfall, and she’s sore because you made her ride. She’s hungry and tired, and finally realizes that her nagging doesn’t help, so you know what she’s gonna do?”

The men around them all stare at Dean, and the guy next to Jo stares at him with big eyes. “What?”

Dean lets them stew for a few seconds. “Whale. And I mean it when I say that. She’s not just gonna cry. I’m talking rivers of tears, screaming like a wounded animal. She’s gonna whale like a freaking wolf, probably bringing a whole pack of them down on you.”

All eyes suddenly turn to Jo, and she makes a face as of she’s about to ball her eyes out right that second. “Let her go,” the leader says, and the man next to Jo cuts her loose.

When she gets up, one of the other men gets to his feet. “But won’t she tell the king where we are?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” Dean says. “I mean, she’s a woman. She can only tell her head from her ass because one is hairier than the other. She’s lucky if she doesn’t get lost in the woods.” 

The men look at each other and seem to agree with Dean’s words. “Go,” the leader barks at Jo and points to the woods. Jo hurries in the given direction, and Dean almost hopes that he won’t make it back. If he has to stand in front of Jo again, she’ll probably take his head off.

The second Jo crosses the treeline, Dean takes out his dagger, hoping that the second part of his plan will go just as smoothly. Before he can bury the shaft in the leader’s body, one of the men around the fire screams, pointing at him. “Boss!”

The leader grabs Dean’s arm, and although Dean manages to cut him, the wound isn’t severe enough to hinder him. He brings down his fist with force and hits Dean’s face with a blow that knocks him to the ground. Dean feels his lip split open. He tastes blood, and a bright light clouds his vision. He can only see a shadow appearing in front of him, knocking the leader’s sword away when he tries to bring it down on Dean.

Fighting noises fill Dean’s ears, and he has no idea if they’re winning or losing. When his vision clears, he sees Rufus struggling with the leader. Two of Crowley’s men lie dead on the ground, and one jumps on a horse and disappears into the trees. Dean stumbles to his feet when the other one storms over to attack one of the king’s guards from behind. “Oh no, you coward,” Dean grunts.

He draws the attention of the man and gets lucky. He’s not much of a sword fighter, and Dean can hold him off long enough for Rufus to come to his aid again. Dean would have loved to stand his ground, but he’s still woozy from the blow and the longer the fight drags on, the more his inexperience begins to show. Rufus takes over, and Dean steps back, catching his breath. A few seconds later, Rufus strikes his opponent, and when he falls to the ground, the forest becomes quiet again. The fight is over.

Dean points to the woods. “Get our horses and follow us. We have to make sure Jo gets home safe.” 

“And you?” Rufus asks.

“I’ll take one of these horses and try to catch up with her. Go!”

Rufus’ face tells Dean that he doesn’t like that plan at all, but King John ordered him to follow Dean’s lead, so that’s what he does. He gives a shout to the other men, and they head into the woods. Dean gets on one of the horses and tries to find the spot where Jo disappeared, but the horse dances around made shy from the noises of the fight.

Dean claps its side and keeps talking to calm it down. Once it reacts to his commands, he leads it to the trees. Dean is sure he’ll catch up to Jo in no time, but a sudden hit to his leg makes him reel back, and he tears at the reign. Pain shoots through Dean’s leg, and when the horse shrinks from his sudden movements, Dean can’t hold himself in the saddle. While the horse pulls forward, Dean’s momentum throws him backward and he lands on the ground, his leg hurting even more.

The air gushes out of Dean’s lungs, and the pain becomes unbearable. Dean grunts and does his best to take a few deep breaths. Finally, he manages to look down and finds an arrow sticking out of his leg. Out of instinct, he rolls on his stomach and starts crawling, dragging the injured leg useless behind him. If a bowman was able to shoot him, he'd probably try again. Dean stays low and heads straight for the treeline, hoping to get out of the bowman’s line of sight.

Between the trees, the grass is higher and Dean dares to rest for a moment and just listen. No horses are coming, and he can’t hear voices. The man who shot him is probably the one who took off when they attacked. When nothing happens, Dean drags himself to nearest tree that’s broad enough to hide him and takes cover behind it. If the bowman circles around to attack him from the front, there’s nothing he can do about it, but if he’s lucky, the man follows him into the woods, and he might be able to surprise him.

Dean draws his sword and listens to the sounds of the woods. So far, everything seems normal, and Dean inspects his leg. He knows he should probably do something about it, but he doesn’t dare to take the arrow out, and he wouldn’t know what else to do. Biting his teeth, he keeps breathing through the pain and a distinct sound draws his attention. Footsteps.

From one moment to the other, the pain goes away, and all of Dean’s senses focus on the sound. The man moves carefully, but little twigs cover the ground, and every step gives him away. Dean’s hand moves around him, searching the ground for a rock. When he finds one, he holds still and listens. The steps are coming closer and closer, and although it doesn’t make sense, it feels like Dean can see him. When he approaches the tree, Dean throws the stone past him into the other direction. It bounces off a tree and hoping that the man will turn to the sound, Dean springs into action. 

He pushes himself off the ground and lets out a grunt through gritted teeth when fresh pain shoots through his leg. Ignoring it as best as he can, he steps around the tree. The bowman lifts up his knife, but Dean pushes his sword upwards and buries it in the man’s chest. He stands still for a moment, before falling back and landing on the ground with a loud thud. Dean stumbles backward against the tree. The sword glides out of his hand and his breathing is too fast, but he can’t manage to calm down.

Dean stares at the man with wide eyes. No matter how many hours of training you have, nobody can prepare you for this. He killed a man. Nausea takes hold of Dean, and his vision becomes blurry again. He knows he needs to find the horse and make his way home, but he can’t move. With a deep sigh, Dean closes his eyes and prays that whoever finds him will be a friend.


End file.
